Round of 16: England and Germany
by Naeshira
Summary: Uh, yeah. What the title says. What England and Germany do before and after the game today.


The time was now. It was time to play. The anthems had been sung and the flags were being carried back into the tunnel. The crowd was rowdy, cheering and singing, all desperate for their team to win, and beat back their historic rivals.

The Englishman watched the flags get carried past him, before turning to the German standing on the other side of the tunnel. Both Arthur and Ludwig, though wearing suits, had gotten very patriotic in their ties; all three of their respective colors represented there in stripes.

"A good game between rivals, eh, Ludwig?" Arthur said, holding out his hand.

Ludwig nodded. "Ja, very gut." He took Arthur's hand in a bruising grip, grinning. "This will be fun."

Arthur grinned as well, gripping his hand in much the same manner. "May the best man win."

With a last nod, both men turned to their respective benches. The whistle had been blown.

* * *

Neither nation caught sight of the other in the duration of the game. When the final whistle was blown, the Germans erupted. They had won! Ludwig threw a fist in the air, elated. He'd beaten England! He'd beaten Arthur!

Being the stoic German he was, he didn't go hug everyone on the bench and the field. Instead, he shook hands with the coaches and managers, congratulations flying everywhere.

When he finally thought about it, and turned to the English bench, he saw many downtrodden faces, but no sign of the infamous eyebrows. He sighed, it seemed as if Arthur had left as soon as the game was finished.

* * *

In fact, Arthur had. Almost as soon as the whistle had blown, he'd been overwhelmed with a feeling of disappointment, and sadness, and anger. He knew what it was. His whole country had been watching this game, hanging on to every moment. And now it was over, and it was their feelings, all cumulated into one that he was feeling. It was almost painful.

One of the managers, who'd known who he really was, had noticed how terrible he'd felt. Bent over, arms across his chest, and his eyes closed and close to tears. The manager had grabbed his shoulder and helped him from the field before returning to the team. Arthur took that moment to leave, returning to his South African hotel room and collapsing on his bed.

The fatigue that came with such a rush of emotion made his eyes droop, and he pulled a pillow under his head, not even bothering to take off his jacket and tie. The game replayed in his mind while he tried to fall asleep.

They'd done badly. His team was not at all up to snuff. Their people were disappointed and angry, and everyone had expected better. These thoughts were enough to make tears spring up at the corners of his eyes, though he didn't let them fall. Eventually he slipped into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Hours later, around midnight or so, South African time, Arthur awoke. He still felt like crap and he really needed a drink. He stood and took off his tie, which had started to strangle him in his sleep. He left his hotel room, almost forgetting his wallet.

He'd made it to the lobby before any other nations had noticed him. And the one that did was not at all the one he wanted to see right now.

Ludwig moved in front of him. His tie was also gone, and his jacket sat on the back of a chair nearby. His hair was a bit mussed, and his breath smelled faintly of alcohol. He'd gone drinking in celebration after the game. Now, however, he seemed sober enough to face his rival.

"Arthur." He said, and the shorter man just looked at him. Ludwig felt a twinge of sympathy. He knew exactly what he was going through. After all, he'd had that feeling of major disappointment before. Many times. He simply held out his hand. "Gut game."

Arthur looked at the hand for a long time. They both knew it hadn't been, not for him. He knew how his men had played, and so did Ludwig. He sighed and took the hand, shaking it. "Good game, Ludwig."

* * *

**AN: Ah, that was another hard game to watch. Once again, I'm American, but I'm guessing that this is how the English feel right about now. So, obviously, that'd be how Arthur feels. Sorry if anyone's OOC, I don't think they are. If the mix of German and English that Ludwig uses is too hard to read, sorry about that. Disclaimer: Arthur and Ludwig belong to their creators. **


End file.
